


I'll Be There When You're Ready

by hermesbabie



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Dom/sub Undertones, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mentioned Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Top Dionysus (Hades Video Game), Zagreus just really loves Thanatos, but you knew that already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermesbabie/pseuds/hermesbabie
Summary: Zagreus is stressed out, beaten down, and more than a little heartsick over a certain Death Incarnate; luckily, the gods are on his side, and Dionysus has an *innovative* plan to help him out.
Relationships: Dionysus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 206





	I'll Be There When You're Ready

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been seven years since I've written fanfic but I was so offended that this pairing only has seven works that I was spurred to action. I am older, wiser, and gayer, and on a mission. And yet somehow this is only marginally about them despite the fact that they are fucking. The urge to angst was too strong :_)
> 
> Beta'd by [ Mr_Lonely, a real hero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Lonely)

It had not been one of his better runs. 

Staggering slightly and heaving with effort, Zagreus thrust forward Stygius into the Splitter’s body, sending it from whence it came as it shrieked with anger. After verifying the security of the now empty room, he half sat, half collapsed onto the cold floor, leaning against a broken column. He could keep going, of course, he had moved forward with less left in him plenty of times before, but today (tonight?) it felt different. _He_ felt different. His injuries had not come from hard-fought clashes against his father’s finest forces, but from what could most kindly be described as “mistakes”- a stumble into a spike trap (ow), a dodge that landed him squarely in Asphodel’s singeing magma (ow), and a blood sacrifice to Master Chaos that he really should have known wouldn’t be worth it given the run’s earlier misfortunes (whoops; and ow). At this rate, he stood no chance against Theseus and Asterius, even with the potential of Patroclus’s aid- an annoying prospect. If the gods had any mercy at all, they would simply strike him down now, rather than force him to listen to Theseus’s hubristic self-congratulation as he fell to him. 

Shit- _the gods_. And more specifically, their boons. Most specifically, the glowing, overflowing cup that hovered in the air just a few paces away from him. Each of them had their expectations and egos, but he trusted the god of wine and revelry to be more laid-back than his more warish, intense kin. He lifted himself off the ground and went to it, reaching out to touch its white-hot radiance. “Olympus, I accept this message.” 

With the sound of clinking glasses and merrymaking, Lord Dionysus appeared in front of him, rosy cheeked and lax as ever. His warm smile wavered towards concern for a moment, but his countenance was playful and welcoming once again in a heartbeat. It was irrational, but Zagreus felt something bordering on shame, being seen like this by him. Dionysus was perpetually disheveled, purple hair loosely thrown over his shoulder and sorry excuse for a garment shifted such that it left little to the imagination, but he wore it well. He radiated confidence and mirth in a way that was- well, intoxicating. Zagreus’s disheveldness was less attractive. He resembled a man who had been run over by a chariot, only partially because he had been, less than five minutes ago. Even though they stood apart, he could smell the drink and spice radiating from the god, which made him even more sensitive to his own musk of sweat and metal. 

“Zag, man, what’s happened to you? No offense, but you look like you’ve seen better days,” Dionysus consoled. 

Zagreus shook his head dismissively, a few laurel leaves falling from his crown and dissolving into ashy nothingness. “None taken. Bad day, I guess. Lot’s of stupid mistakes. I apologize for wasting your gifts- yours and everyone else’s, if you can take a message.” 

“Wasting? Nonsense, man, nah, that’s not how it works at all! If I lend you my power and it doesn’t do anything useful, it would seem it wasn’t the right kind of power for the occasion, right?”

Zagreus scoffed, though it was mostly to hide his embarrassment and creeping blush. “You are too kind. And underestimate my general incompetence.” 

Dionysus cocked an eyebrow at this assertion. “What’s gotten _into_ you, Zag? Everything alright at home?” 

“Well, _no_ , but-”

He cringed at his own remark, having meant it playfully. “Ooh, bad question, sorry. All I mean is, I think you’re missing something greater than borrowed powers.”

The wine god hummed and tapped his cheek with his finger, examining Zagreus with great interest. It was more attention than Zagreus was used to getting from the Olympians. On occasion, he thought he might have noticed this one in particular allowing his gaze to linger on his form for more time than was strictly necessary to transfer over a boon, but he had dismissed it as mere overspeculation- or perhaps wishful thinking. But now, it was plain to see that he was being analysed, his body language read, every inch of his being scanned for answers- to what question exactly, he wasn’t sure. 

“Aha!” Dionysus cried out, startling Zagreus away from his wandering thoughts, “Zag. Man. When you’re not doing this. When you’re back at the House, no wretches, no danger, none of that. What do you do?”

“I… that’s a bit vague, sir,” Zagreus replied.

“To _relax_ , man. What do you do to take your mind off it all?” 

Zagreus pondered this for a moment. “Well… when I’m not trying to get out, I train for the next time, mostly. I check up on the House’s other residents, look after the renovations, try to plan ahead for whatever else is to come… things like that?” 

Dionysus’s mouth was slightly open thought might be either genuine or gently mocking surprise. He chuckled heartily, looking at Zagreus with renewed fondness. That was new, that gaze of pure tenderness and care- and entirely unexpected, though not unwelcome.

“None of that sounds particularly relaxing. Do you ever drink?” 

Zagreus shrugged. “Only occasionally. Not in excess, nor for pleasure.” 

“Have any hobbies?”

“Er. Not really.”

“A place to rest?” 

“I _own_ a bed, but I don’t care for sleep.” 

“A confidant?”

“Not with any consistency.”

“A lover?” 

The last one caught him off guard, and the wine god noticed, a small smirk beginning to form on the corner of his rosy lips. Zagreus began to form an answer, but it came out all stammers and restarts. It wasn’t that he lacked the inclination, but it felt almost sacrilegious to think of _him_ right now. Was there someone whose very being tugged at his heartstrings, whose removedness and recent shunning of him wounded him more than anything his father could throw at him? Yes. But he was not his, so “No,” is the answer he eventually declared. No great fulfilled love, no outlet for carnal desire, no arms waiting for him to fall into upon his return. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t what he craved more than anything.

He didn’t even notice that Dionysus had inched closer to him, now within arm’s reach. The sweet, boozy smell he diffused was more potent now, and moved through Zagreus’s nose to wrap tendrils around his swiftly beating heart, spurring it to beat even faster. “I think I understand, man, I really do,” he mused, “You aren’t getting what you need, no sir, not at all. You die horribly, wake up back in the heart of the place you’re trying to escape, and what’s there to comfort you, hm? To help you unwind?” 

Zagreus didn’t think his thoughts could start to race any faster than they already were, but they did. It wasn’t the assertion of his comment, but the implications of what he might do to rectify the problem. He was close to him, _so close_ , so warm and radiant and gods-damned _intoxicating_. Asking him if he had a lover. Smiling when he said no. Moving in closer.

“You hardly know the meaning of the word, do you, Zag?” Dionysus cooed, closer still, his gaze never averting from Zagreus’s mismatched eyes, “Maybe that’s my gift to you this time, what would you think of that? A little lesson in relaxation?” 

His hand was on the small of Zagreus’s back. He felt his cock twitch and tent slightly beneath his chiton. _Blood and darkness, it didn’t take much_.

“Zagreus?” Dionysus purred. It was the first time he could recall the god calling him by his full name. 

It was all he could do to nod fervently and reply stupidly, “Yes. Yes. _Please_.” 

Dionysus clicked his tongue approvingly. “So polite. So pretty.” 

In an instant, Zag felt his lips engulfed by his patron’s hot mouth, his tongue slipping between his petal lips to subtly overwhelm him. It sent a clear message, which Dionysus vocalized when they finally broke for breath (though neither technically required such a thing, it was still a stirring idea). “I’m going to help you relax, Zag. So I need you to trust me. _Give_ yourself to me. Sound good?” 

Zagreus managed to hum an affirmative, full words or sentences now seeming an unrealistic goal. The god smiled at him, brushed a few locks of messy, staticy black hair out of his face, and kissed him again. It was different from their first set, which had been so wild and impulsive and heady- Dionysus’s exact domain, as it happened. Now, he placed chaste pecks on the corners of Zag’s mouth before slowly, languidly moving to kiss him properly. 

_Like a lover_ , Zagreus mused to himself. It made him tremble with a mixture of fear and arousal. 

This man would not be his lover- not for more than an hour or so at a time, if they continued their trists; which, he noted, might not be Dionysus’s intention at all. These arms that held him now, so broad and strong and smooth, would not be the ones he collapsed into as he vented away his troubles; these hands that cupped his face and explored tantalizingly along his chest and stomach would not be the ones to card through his hair with his head in his lap, resting peacefully along the Lethe. 

And that was okay- as unbearably attractive as he found Dionysus, the feeling that swelled in his chest now, both painfully and excitedly, was not love. His kind touches and blatant enthusiasm stirred a renewed interest in the possibility, but what coursed through his veins now was unmistakably the rushed collision of lust and the more general pent-up longing to be touched, pleased, adored- putting it bluntly, to be fucked. 

His mind had been wandering again- he hadn’t noticed how he’d begun to breathe out small mewls of pleasure against Dionysus’s lips until he was right in his ear, whispering praise and promises of further delights yet to come. 

_Do people tell you you’re beautiful?_

That was a no. He had no personal qualms about his appearance, and was not generally sensitive to the opinions of others. But the only people he spoke to regularly were Hypnos (not paying attention), Meg (regularly tried to kill him), Than (never stayed for more than ninety seconds), Achilles (far too lovelorn), Dusa (consistently fled from him), the host of shades in the House’s employ (uninterested), and his father (self explanatory). All that to say that the compliment was strange, though most welcome. 

_I want to please you, lovely._

He shuddered. He wanted that. Badly.

_May I disrobe you, Zag?_

_That_ was a yes. He told him so, and felt his soft hands leisurely begin to remove the bracers and wraps from around his arms. It made him feel so little, seeing the difference in size between their arms. All the Olympians were built this way, to an extent- even the more lithe of them, like Aphrodite or Hermes, were formed of divine muscle and stood half a head taller than him, at minimum. He was technically one of them, though younger by millenia. He sometimes wondered if one day he would grow to look like them, given that a quarter of his heritage was mortal.

The thought was rendered instantaneously inconsequential as Dionysus gently nudged at his chiton before unraveling it and tossing it aside. He had a mind to do the same for his partner- it seemed only fair- but recalled with a jolt that while he had his leggings and greaves, Dionysus lacked such other coverings. He noticed how the garment tented, his heart fluttering at the realization that this was his doing. Before he could make a decision, Dionysus tugged his wrist to bring him to the ground with him, settling him in his lap. Gods, now he could _feel_ it. He made a poor attempt at stifling the groan that involuntarily rose from his throat. 

“Enthusiastic! I love to see it, Zag, truly,” Dionysus chuckled, working at the straps on Zag’s greaves, pressing small kisses and teasing licks to his chest and shoulders, continuing in a low voice, “Is that what you’d like, then, lovely? My cock?” 

The greaves fell to the ground with a dull clang before being unceremoniously kicked away. Thankfully, Zagreus thought, the sound covered the wanton noise that escaped his lips as Dionysus began to slowly roll his hips against the cleft of his ass. The slow, hot feeling of friction felt between the clothes that still separated their skin was more than enough to completely distract himself from the fact that he had just been asked a question. He was quickly reminded of it however, when the motion slowed even further, Dionysus taking his jaw in one large hand and bringing their faces together, just inches apart. “Zag. Is that what you want?” 

Their breath was hot on each others’ faces. “Y-yes,” Zagreus said breathily, “Please. Sorry, sir- I-” 

He was cut off by the wine god pulling him into another kiss. This one too was unique from the others. It honestly barely qualified as a kiss; it was more as if they were simply pressing their open mouths against each other, as if trying to find the full scope of each others’ tastes, memorizing them. Unsurprisingly, Dionysus tasted like nectar. Zagreus wondered if it had come from one of the several bottles he’d given as offerings. It was a brief exchange, but nonetheless it disappointed him when he pulled away. 

“Aw, no harm done, man, none at all. I knew what I was getting myself into,” Dionysus said, casually. 

Wait. What?

Dionysus was pulling him in for another kiss, but Zag resisted slightly, a motion which was instantly registered by the other, and responded to accordingly. He released his jaw from his hand, instead placing it gently on his elbow. 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Zagreus asked, attempting to mask the rising shame that ate away at his stomach and threatened to creep up to his lungs and suffocate him at any moment. _He should have just been quiet. It was probably a joke anyway. How was he managing to mess this up? Why couldn’t he just fucking relax?_

Dionysus’s gaze softened and he began to draw small circles on the flesh of Zag’s arm with his finger. “Well, you’re in my lap right now. Nearing nudity, essentially there, if you ask me. You’re hard, and so am I. You’ve just spent the last few minutes with my tongue in your mouth. But,” he punctuated, “It’s not me you’re thinking of, is it?” 

Zag’s chest tightened.

“How is good ol’ Thanatos, by the way? I heard you two were in a bit of a tiff.” 

There wasn’t an answer to that question. How Than was really doing was entirely a mystery to him. Ever since he had learned of Zagreus’s plan to leave the Underworld, he’d been cold and distant, never staying in a room with him for longer than he had to and then taking every opportunity to remind him of how this betrayal had stung. He supposed that was an indication that he cared, but that mattered little if all this had irreparably broken the trust they had been forging since childhood.

Well shit, he couldn’t deny Dionysus’s attestation- not now. If he wasn’t thinking of Than before, he certainly was now. The gap in his chest that Than’s newfound distance had created had at first been enough to stop Zag from thinking lustfully on him, but that feeling had returned in time, now tinged with the agonizing reminder that he was more out of his reach than ever. But he couldn’t stop himself. He imagined Than slamming him against a wall, forcing his hands over his head while he had his way with him. _You’re going to stay with me_ , he’d groan in his ear as he fucked him hard against the wall. It was a rather unrealistic fantasy, with how gentle he knew Than to be, but it was what he had to keep him warm at night, at the moment. 

“Don't mistake me, Zag, I want this,” Dionysus said gently, snapping Zag back to reality, “And I do think you need it. I just want you to know- it’s all good if you’re off in your own world while I’m doing my bit, right? I’m just here to help a guy out, however that makes itself known.” He slipped his hands under the waistband of Zag’s leggings, slowly slipping them off around his feet, leaving him entirely bare. He produced a small vial of oil from somewhere within the folds of his own chiton- how it had stayed in place the whole time they were moving about, Zag didn’t know, but it wasn’t really important. “How do you like it, lovely? Gentle? Hard? In a crescendo?” 

Zagreus considered the options, inevitably arriving back at the image of Than utterly wrecking him for everything he’d put him through. Just the concept made him shiver with lustful anticipation. “Hard,” he breathed, “Like- like you’re angry with me, but not because you hate me. Because you… I don’t know quite how to put it. Care too much?” He realized how obviously referential that was by Dionysus’s smirk. At this point, as mad as the arousal and anticipation was driving him, he felt being embarrassed was no longer a worthy use of his time, or of Dionysus’s. 

“I can do that,” Dionysus said lasciviously, “Tell me if it’s too much though, okay, Zag? I _feel_ like you might be working through something right now, and that sort of thing is always unpredictable, I can tell you that. Just make sure you’re still enjoying yourself.” Zagreus nodded in understanding, then tilted his head down to place a gentle kiss on Dionysus’s lips. The wine god’s smile radiated warmth and profound gentleness, despite his reputation for being an agent of impulse. 

The smile did not disappear, nor did anything else in his countenance change, as he grabbed Zagreus’s face roughly. This was not the gentle tilting of his chin, but a forceful grasp of him, forcing the direction of his attention; Zagreus gasped at the sudden change in the energy of their interaction. His fingers dug into his cheeks, squeezing them together to force his lips into a pout. The hold made him realize how large those fingers really were, though almost velvety in their smoothness. “Now,” Dionysus said, in a voice that verged on being a growl, “Is there anything you’d like to say for yourself before I actually _deal with you_?” 

His grip tightened when Zagreus remained initially silent. “N-no,” he sputtered, “Nothing. There’s… nothing I can say.” This answer seemed to please him well enough, as he released him from his hold. He still felt the ghosts of his touch, a dull ache. His jaw wasn’t the only thing that was aching right now, though. He reached a hand down to stroke himself, only to have it slapped away before any of that agonizing pressure could be relieved. “What do you think you’re doing? Pray tell what you’ve done to deserve that right as of yet?” his partner asked. He didn’t have an answer for that. “Exactly. Lean over.” 

The hand that had slapped his away pushed his head down so that he was breathing directly into the crook of Dionysus’s neck. He heard the sound of a vial being opened, and whimpered slightly at the memory of how those fingers had felt on his face, and the idea of what they might feel like inside him. He heard him chuckle, the god of revelry’s characteristic mirthful laugh. He coughed shortly as if to correct himself back into character, but Zagreus couldn’t help but smile and press a little kiss onto the skin he could reach. 

His reward was that smile being immediately wiped from his face as he felt the first oiled digit press at his hole, then slide in past the tight muscle in one push. He groaned, throwing his arms around Dionysus’s shoulders for support. As he began to work the finger in and out, the groans of initial discomfort quickly transformed into soft mewls and moans of pleasure. A second finger was added, then a third, filling him. The motion of the thrusting was harsh, bordering on overwhelming, but euphorically satisfying, eliciting more sweet sounds from Zagreus. He leaned back into the feeling, pressing down as much as he could while still keeping his head where it had been placed.

“There’s a good boy,” Dionysus grunted, “I knew you needed this. Look at you, you’ve been ready to burst since you had my tongue in your mouth, little harlot.” With the hand that wasn’t inside him, he slapped Zag’s asscheek sharply, humming happily at the shocked noise that came from him. “But you are taking me very well. Do you want more, godling?” Zagreus keened slightly at the affectionate titles bestowed upon him (he took “harlot” to be a term of endearment as well, in this context). 

“Y-yes, please, ah- I can take it,” he said, sweetness and desperation dripping from his voice like drink flows from an overfilled cup. The stimulation wasn’t going to fix the hurt in his heart- he knew that -but it was certainly helping him work through one specific aspect of it, if in an unconventional way. Blasphemously, he wondered why Athena was the patron of wisdom if Dionysus had tricks like this up his sleeve.

He felt the loss of Dionysus’s fingers, the emptiness now an unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling. One of his big hands pressed down on Zagreus’s head where it was laid, gently thumbing through his unruly hair affectionately. It was an unexpectedly intimate gesture, and lasted longer than he expected it to. At some point he tried to buck his hip upwards, desperate for some friction against his dripping cock, but he was met with a shush and a hand tracing down the vertebrae of his spine, feeling out each one beneath the muscles.

What was more unexpected than that was the sudden feeling of tears beginning to fall from his eyes and course down his cheeks beyond his control.

He did not cry frequently. He could remember only a handful of times. Once, as a child, he recalled crawling into Nyx’s arms and weeping into her chest as she rocked him. She had been away for far too long, and was, after all, his mother. 

Until she wasn’t. 

Another time, older but still ages ago, he pressed his face into his pillow and let the bitter tears flow. It was the night he decided he would convert the feelings of misery his father inspired into anger instead. Anger could at least be productive.

But now, he wept in the arms of another, a relative stranger all things considered, and with what- heartsickness? Frustration? Gratitude? Relief? He didn’t even know. The tears came gently, trickling onto his partner’s shoulder. He had half a mind to wipe them away- get rid of the evidence that such a thing had happened, and maybe the reason it had would go in peace with it.

“Poor thing,” Dionysus muttered while pressing a kiss into Zag’s hair, “You really love him, don’t you. Man, _that’s_ gotta be tough.” Zagreus sniffled slightly, attempting to put an end to this embarrassing outburst of emotion. “Though it’s occurred to you he probably loves you too, am I right?” 

The tears stopped flowing, perhaps out of resentment alone. He had considered the idea, but if it were true, he had a fucked up way of showing it. Then again, perhaps he was just as bad, fleeing from their home without so much as a goodbye. 

“Look, Zag, I’ll level with you, this isn’t exactly my domain, and maybe you’d be better off waiting for Aphrodite to show up at a later date, but I’ve got a feeling about this one. Our Thanatos he’s- well, he’s a complicated guy, kind of weird, kind of distant, but a good man under all that, yeah?” he continued, idly focusing his touch on the laurel leaves that decorated the prince’s head, “Give it time, lovely. He’ll come back around as long as he knows you’ll be there when he does.”

“Yes,” Zagreus half-whispered, “I hope so.” 

Dionysus hummed something sweet as he pressed a kiss to Zag’s temple once more. It felt as warm and kind as a hearth.

“Weren’t we fucking like, two minutes ago?” Zagreus realized aloud. Dionysus laughed heartily, ruffling Zag’s hair with such vigor that a few leaves shook out of the crown and landed upon his bare skin, and caused Zagreus to laugh in return. It was a delightful sound, rich and strong like those fruits he was so fond of- and not something he heard nearly often enough, the god of rapture decided. 

“Oh, right!” he blurted out, “Should we get back to that, then? What was I doing, I was- _oh_ , right, hold on, need to get back into character. Give me just a moment.” Zagreus snorted. “What? I take my role seriously, man.” He gave a short cough like he had earlier when his enthusiasm had gotten the best of him and closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, they held a renewed darkness and regarded Zagreus with significantly less gentleness. Whatever hardness he’d lost from the rush of sadness, he gained back almost instantaneously. It was shameful, really. 

“Back to it, then,” Dionysus declared, “Up you go. Hands and knees. And keep those hands together. If I see you trying to get off before I’m done with you, I’ll bind them myself.” 

Was that supposed to be a threat? It had almost the exact opposite effect. But, no- he would be obedient. Feeling as low as he had been lately, he was more than happy to simply do as he was told, and receive affirmation for it. He would be good. He positioned himself as he had been instructed, clasping his hands over each other. He heard the telltale click of the vial being opened again, and a deep groan from Dionysus- a truly divine noise that filled his mind with the radiant image of the god stroking himself. To the thought of _him_. 

It occurred to Zagreus that he hadn’t actually seen Dionysus’s manhood yet, only seen the way it insistently pressed against his garment and felt it as it ground against him. Dionysus ran a hand from the nape of Zag’s neck down to the dimples on his lower back, tenderly tracing their depths. Eventually, the hand came to rest on his hip, fingers digging into to grasp the flesh firmly. He felt the head of Dionysus’s cock against his hole and breathed out a quiet groan of anticipation. 

Within seconds, he was anticipating no longer; Dionysus pushed into him, agonizingly slowly, but in one motion. Zagreus flexed his fingers outwards to ground himself, fruitlessly. He felt his toes curl as his partner simply sat there, hilted within him.

“ _Please_ ,” he managed to squeak out eventually.

“Please what? Ambiguity will get you nowhere in life.”

Zagreus’s cheeks burned as the answer slipped from his mouth. “Please fuck me, sir. Wreck me, please, I- I need it. I need _you_.” 

This seemed a satisfactory response, as Dionysus leaned over to briefly bite a love mark into the meat of Zag’s shoulder, eliciting another groan of pleasure-pain from him. “There’s my good little harlot,” he purred against his skin.

He was nothing if not good for his word. He pulled back and thrust back in roughly, setting a quick, harsh pace. Each thrust brushed up against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Zagreus, sending the prince reeling and practically shouting with pleasure. “Gods- yes- gods, _nhh_ -” came from his mouth, incoherent noises constantly interrupted by low groans and cloud-soft moans. 

Dionysus leaned down once more, this time to whisper into his ear like he had before they’d first dipped into this arrangement. 

I adore you.  
So good for me.  
My perfect little godling.  
I could fill you for the rest of eternity .

Zagreus came untouched, bucking his hips desperately and blinking tears of effort out of his eyes, moaning like it was the only thing his throat was meant for. There were no words behind it- though certainly some came to mind. 

_Than.  
I’d give anything for you to want me like this.  
But, we’ll take our time.  
And I’ll be there when you’re ready._

His legs buckled slightly, but he was caught by the well -timed swoop of one of Dionysus’s hands beneath his belly. “I got you, lovely,” he groaned, clearly nearing his own climax, “Relax.” He guided Zagreus down so that his chest was nearly flush with the floor, his bottom half supported entirely by Dionysus’s hands. It was not much longer until he felt the rush inside him- Dionysus, his Olympian patron, spilling his seed inside him with a long, breathy groan. He felt how those arms supporting him shook, how the grip on his waist tightened dramatically. If bruises lasted more than a few minutes on his godly skin, they’d have been left there for weeks.

Zagreus was still catching his breath as he felt Dionysus gather him up effortlessly into his arms, cleaning him up and wrapping him delicately with his chiton like a blanket. He settled against the column with Zag’s head in his lap, delicately stroking his hair and looking into his eyes.

“Look, man, Aphrodite might be the goddess of love, but you know, I think she lacks a certain creativity,” he monologued, “And you can tell her I said that. Seriously, what do you think she would have done in my place? She’s brutal, that one, more so than the rest of us most of the time. She would have had you sat in one place staring longingly into the distance until that fool Death of yours finally came to his senses. If she takes offense to that- nah, she won’t, she’s gotta know I’m right.” 

Zagreus laughed again, a reward for it all, for the both of them. He knew he had to be on his way soon- Theseus would be antsy if he took too long to get there, and the only thing more grating than regular Theseus was an annoyed Theseus. But he would remain here a few more moments, drinking in the bliss of simply being cared for.

He’d be there when he was ready.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you liked it, I think I might do a little more writing for this fandom because this game has taken control of my life ;-;


End file.
